


Freedom

by ashyluka



Category: Dude That's My Ghost!
Genre: Drug Use, Gen, One Shot, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-24
Updated: 2014-10-24
Packaged: 2018-02-22 11:32:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2506265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashyluka/pseuds/ashyluka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was all he wanted, being in the public eye isn't easy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Freedom

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my tumblr account.
> 
> Enjoy!

His breath hitching as he shoved a needle into his pale, track-marked arm, Baruch bit down roughly on his own lip.

This wasn’t the first time he had done such a thing to himself, but it was going to be his last. He didn’t know how or why, but he just knew this was the end of his life. It was just too much, too soon, in his young life.

He was barely 25 and the pressures of stardom had gotten to him. It started out good enough, he was happy doing what he loved and making others happy with his music.

But it started to change once he hit his 4th album. People seemed to be getting bored of his sound. They wanted change, they wanted _more._ And he tried his best to give them more.

He tried and he tried, but as he did that, the stress got to him heavily. He began to drink more often and he also gained the habit of taking a razor or a broken pair of scissors —or really anything that was sharp— and taking it out on himself.

It wasn’t pretty, and while he didn’t particularly like doing this to himself, his manager began to encourage it in the end along with his social circle. According to them, it brought in more money. People enjoyed seeing a breakdown of a celebrity. It made them feel more secure with themselves and where they were in life to see someone seemingly invincible suffer.

And it made him feel like complete and utter shit. He didn’t want to glamorize this, that was the last thing he wanted. He knew that it would make what he was doing to himself appear to be okay for others, his fans specifically, to do to themselves. And it wasn’t okay.

He’d never forget the young fan, a girl who appeared to be in her mid teens, at a concert of his in The United States. As he sung ‘The Song’ and others in the audience fell into a trance, she remained alert and seemingly on her own state of mind. His eyes remained affixed to hers in the crowd and he just knew that she was just like him.

They were one and the same, but it killed him inside. He didn’t want anyone else to feel the pain and stress of life he constantly felt. But there was nothing he could do for her and he knew that.

And just knowing that made his heart hurt. It made him feel heavy and he actually was unable to finish the concert. He stopped midway into ‘The Song’ and his guitar fell to the stage with a loud clutter.

Averting his gaze slowly from the audience, he walked off. Nothing more and nothing less, he just stopped.

This action caused him to cancel the rest of his tour. He couldn’t do this anymore.

But before his manager could get on his ass, he just left his location. He left and headed back to his mansion. He wasn’t going to hear of it from her. He knew what he had done and he knew what he was doing now.

He had to forget, even if just temporarily, _he had to forget_. And that’s where it leads us to tonight, this very night.

Coming back to reality, his breathing heavy and uneven from shooting up a drug of unknown origin into his veins, his blue eyes were dilated and tears streaming down his face.

His heart had began to beat, almost too fast, _no_ , IT WAS TOO FAST. And he knew deep inside that this was the end of it all. And he felt strangely calm.

He knew it would make major news and his ‘addiction’ would be talked about and misunderstood by the media and the normal people alike. But if it meant ending the pain and stress, if it meant taking some of that pain and stress he constantly sucked in from the rare fans who were just like him, he was okay with that.

Slowly closing his eyes, as one last single tear began to make his way down his left cheek, his grip on the needle loosened as he began to slip away into the unknown. Thinking his one last thought.

_Free. Free at last._


End file.
